


European Union

by blistry



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, blitz is shy, world in turmoil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 17:54:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13686792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blistry/pseuds/blistry
Summary: Blitz is just lookin' out for Twitch.--my pal is a Blitz main and guess who his waifu is and guess why i wrote this fic





	European Union

Twitch sighed, dropping herself into a seat across from one of the quiet German operators she had been working alongside.

The armored truck wherein they sat technically belonged to the GIGN but the recent violent outbreaks of rioting and terrorist acts were not a problem for France alone. All of Europe suffered in these turbulent, heady days.

Considering they had just spent the last twelve hours straight stopping a terrorist group from using aerosolized ricin to wipe out every Berliner in a five mile radius, Twitch felt entitled to a little well-deserved rest.

“Merde,” she said under her breath, pulling at her balaclava. Blitz peered at her from across the aisle, perched on the edge of his own seat, legs akimbo. In one hand he held a knife, in the other, a bright red apple.

Waves of mussed, ash brown curls fell around her shoulders as she undid her severe bun. The smell of lavender filled the space as she fluffed her hair absently. Blitz gasped, not of his own accord. 

The violence of the day had devastated her and, in turn, made her devastatingly beautiful. The edges of her mouth were turned downward, a worrying frown. Her glacial eyes were downcast. The girlish freckles which were swept across her cheeks were more prominent for her exhaustion had turned her pale.

Unthinking, Blitz drove his blade effortlessly into the flesh of the apple, cutting a sizable notch out of it. He worked in an almost possessed fashion, wanting to take care of her in some small way. He had always been like that, despite the coarseness of his manner or appearance. Gentle and, occasionally, nurturing.

He didn’t know what to say and if he tried to say anything at all, he’d probably just embarrass himself or forget not to speak German. Something stupid like that. So without words, he leaned forward. The canvas and kevlar he wore flexed as he offered her the knife. Balancing on the blade sat a perfect slice of apple.

Twitch watched him skeptically, at first. He didn’t blame her. This line of work bred suspicion and calculation. He had it in spades, himself, but he still offered the apple with a gentle nod of his head, wondering if he’d finally get to catch a glimpse of that elusive smile of hers.

She finally reached for the fruit, fingers unafraid of the sharp edge of his blade. 

“Merci,” she murmured, still watching him.

“Bitte,” he replied with his gravelly voice and then leaned back into his seat, satisfied. Even if he did forget to not speak German.


End file.
